Colors: Transparency
by Liv Wilder
Summary: "So, I did as you asked and I thought about what you said," she rattles out nervously, jumping straight in to a speech, as if she's an actor hitting her mark the second she reaches the middle of the living room floor; her lines immediately starting to flow. "And the thing is…" COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 - Transparency

_A/N: This alternate take on a post-Watershed fic came out of my irritation at some of the so-called scoops and spoilers that have been appearing online. So, I wrote my frustration out. It won't happen this way and I wouldn't want it to. But it's a variant on the whole discussion, and the idea at the story's core - transparency (both with ourselves and others) - is one I think we could all probably do with working on. These characters certainly could._

* * *

_"And we are water_  
_We flow and flow_  
_I feel you pouring through_  
_Every inch of my soul and_  
_I really must tell you this_  
_Baby, before you go_  
_We are water_  
_We flow and flow"_

_**-Patty Griffin**, 'We Are Water'_

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Transparency**_

_Transparency. _

The word hits her out of the blue as she sits alone in her living room, knees drawn up to her chest, his words still echoing around her brain as if they are on a loop. The diamond engagement ring winks up at her from the coffee table.

"_Katherine Houghton Beckett will you marry me?" _

_Marry_ me? Marry _ME_?

They had been sitting on the swings when his speech – the deadly serious tone of it in fact - had made her feel suddenly as cold and unsteady as a seesaw on a wet, wind-swept day. The blood had rushed from her head, a chill ran up her spine, and her mouth had gone dry, tears threatening like storm clouds. The balance shift from his grave pronouncement - that he had been thinking about their relationship, about what they had…

* * *

She cuts off this thought, diverted.

What _do_ they have? A whole lot more than she's ever had with anyone else, that's for sure. She's never put herself out there before – never asked any other man where their relationship was headed, content to just let things drift, _run_ even if the ties threatened to bind too tightly. A spare toothbrush was one thing, a door key a practical solution. But the second they started talking vacation plans more than a few weeks in advance, family dinners or joint anything, she was off; out of there faster than snow off a roof in springtime.

Only not this time.

This time they had put in the hard yards in advance, tested their relationship to the limit – bad timing, lies and subtext, near death experiences, his ex-wives, her boyfriends, family, her mother's case and it's sucking decent into obsession – all the common and uncommon trigger points for relationship trouble they had navigated their way around. Until this - her career and the crossroads this amazing opportunity had created for her, and, by extension, for them.

Her job had brought them together in the first place – his too in a strange kind of way - their daily lives entwining around a shared passion for murder; perverse as that sounds. It would be too great a cruelty for this to be the one thing that drove a wedge between them. Castle saw to it this afternoon that it wouldn't – giving in so readily to her professional needs. And she hates herself just a little bit for that – that he's the one to have to save them yet again; to set his own needs aside in favor of hers.

"_So whatever happens and whatever you decide…"_

Now that she knows what he meant by these words – that his speech wasn't intended to signify the end for them, merely an elegant glide into a new, more committed future…

She sighs, reaching for the ring, holding it between thumb and forefinger to inspect it more closely, twisting it this way and that. She has yet to slip it on her finger to see how it would look or if it even fits. She's not that vain and it wouldn't be fair to him. At least she thinks it wouldn't be. Sometimes she doesn't know what to think lately.

If only she could read his mind and he hers, their life might be a whole lot simpler.

* * *

She told him "_No_", her head shaking, and then a swift "_Well, not now. Not like this_," in response to his shocked, crestfallen look. She really wants this – a life with him. But they are both bad at relationships – his two failed marriages the most costly, damaging testament to just how bad. Her series of drifts into work-related pairings that lasted little longer than their longest case proof of his assertion that she hid in meaningless flings with men she didn't love just to lose herself a little further from the main source of her pain. But that pain is less sharp now, weathered by time and understanding, less of a driving force, and she has to move on.

If they are going to commit, they need to learn to communicate better – to share their thoughts, needs, fears and feelings with one another. They need transparency, more than anything.

Castle had pressed the ring into her hand, whispered, "_Take your time_", and had risen from the grass to walk away; to give her space without the pressure of having to witness his disappointment a second longer.

They have love between them, that's for sure, and if she doubted his commitment to something more permanent, she has her answer now on that front too. If it were only about the love of the dance, he would have let her go, not fought for her even harder. She acted selfishly over the job offer, fell back on her old ways – trying to work things out in her own head first: going for the interview to find out more, to see if she would even get an offer before she mentioned any of it to Castle – part habit and part professional vanity. Lying on top of everything was hideous.

But if she wants this to work, with or without the job, she needs to make the bedrock of her life about the relationship she has with this man, she now sees – not a career. Jobs come and go. She could get fired, injured, invalided out, lose her edge or her heart for law enforcement, even blot her copy with I.A. – anything could happen. Eventually, as with all jobs, she will become too old and retire. But she knows deep down that she will never lose her love for Castle. Even if he had walked away from her today, that love would have remained with her; as sure and as irrefutable a part of her as her own shadow.

She needs him to understand her better than she understands herself, she realizes, with a jolt of self-awareness. As messy and scared and closed off as she is, he has to find a way in, and she has to be the one to give him the key – no more scratching and clawing. Just as she needs access to whatever is inside his head and his heart. They both need transparency.

She looks down at the ring again - suddenly migrated onto her pinkie finger when she wasn't looking – the diamonds themselves clarity personified. She slips it off, drops it into her palm, the arc of virgin platinum, shiny and elegant beneath the diamond setting, catching the lamplight. There's an inscription in the inner curve of the band she hadn't noticed before. Looking closer she sees just one word - _their_ word – etched in a tiny, looping script.

It simply reads:_ Always_

* * *

She paces in front of the loft entrance, the ring pressed tightly into the palm of her hand. When he opens the door, she stuffs it onto her pocket. He looks just as before – a little graver, perhaps, or maybe tired and sad, but he's still her Castle.

"Okay if I come in?" she asks, a hint of a nervous smile on her face.

She thinks he's about to say "_Why_", but thinks better of it. A strangled "Of course," comes out instead, and then he clears his throat, stepping back to let her pass.

"So, I did as you asked and I thought about what you said," she rattles out nervously, jumping straight in to a speech, as if she's an actor hitting her mark the second she reaches the middle of the living room floor; her lines immediately starting to flow. "And the thing is…"

"D—do you want a drink? Wine, coffee, tea or something, because…?" he interrupts, nervously.

Castle pauses then, stalling, and she looks up, reads his face – the fear in his eyes - and oh, he thinks…

"I want you to see through me," she blurts, watching as his brow knits together.

"_Through you_? Kate, I could never…" he says, shaking his head.

He could never see _past_ her. That's been his entire problem since they met – she fills his field of vision so completely when she's there in front of him – she's a panorama, a beautiful vista, the kind of view people spend their entire life working towards paying for in retirement. And when she's not right in front of him, thoughts of her fill his head. She even pervades his dreams at night: wild, action filled fantasies full of color and, at times of stress, panic and fear.

No, transparent is the last thing Kate Beckett is.

"No. See _inside_ of me. Inside my head. _Know_ my heart. We're missing each other far too often, Castle. _Still_. After everything."

* * *

Castle sinks down onto the edge of the sofa and runs both hands through his hair, dropping his head forward to stare between his knees at the floor.

"So…what do we do? Do you have a plan? I hope you have plan. Because I already gave it my best shot."

She smooths her palms down her thighs, still standing in the middle of the room, his '_best shot_' tucked safely inside her jeans pocket.

"The ring?"

He nods, glances up at her and then off towards the stairs, as if he expects his mother to interrupt at any moment; to float down the stairs in a cloud of lurid, fragrant, Pucci-printed chiffon with some clever, snarky putdown he really doesn't need to hear right now.

"How long have you had it?" she asks quietly, biting her lip.

It's the one question she doesn't know the answer to. In fact, there's probably a lot more than just that one, if she's honest. But it's the burning one – one that would show intention and forethought – rather like planning the commission of a crime, she thinks, ironically. He proposed out of the blue, out of judiciousness, she believed at first today - _the_ most expensive relationship Band Aid in the history of relationship fixes. She has an image of him rushing off to the Diamond District the day before: running along West 47th peering in windows, his palms sweating, fingers streaking the glass, until he found 'the one'. All to keep her from leaving town alone for a job. From leaving him.

So, if she just knew…

* * *

"Two months," he replies quietly, wondering what difference it makes.

"I…I'm sorry? Did you say…?"

"Two months ago. That's when I bought the ring."

She wants to yell out and a flight of butterflies takeoff in her stomach. _That_ is transparency, she thinks. Tell me _these things_ and I can believe in us so easily.

"Two months ago," she grins. "So, before…"

"Before the job, yes," he tells her, still grim-faced.

"Oh," she smiles, pursing her lips until her stupid cheeks ache.

"Why? What…why does that make a difference? I—I don't see…"

"Because it just does, Castle."

"You seem…_pleased_," he observes, waving a hand listlessly in her direction.

"I guess I am," she says, feeling more than pleased but suddenly self-conscious that it should matter. "Maybe that's stupid."

"Why would it be stupid? You asked, I answered. You obviously got an answer you liked. That—" he sighs. "Kate, you've never been stupid in your life. Well, except maybe that one time when you dressed up in that Nebula 9 costume and tried to seduce me. _That_ was stupid."

"Ha!" she laughs, thrown off guard by his quick wit at a time like this. "Yeah, that _was_ stupid," she admits, grinning at the memory, the tips of her fingers pressed against her smile. "You wouldn't have sex with me that night."

"I _couldn't_ have sex with you that night. And you're lucky it was just one night," he parries back, eyes connecting with hers and flashing – that immutable spark they have between them brighter than any diamond - their problems momentarily forgotten.

* * *

But then he falls silent again, looks down at his hands, stretching his fingers wide, like he's trying to fill the time, to prevent her from saying something they'll both regret.

"We've had some pretty good times," she muses, and the look on his face tells her this little trip down memory lane isn't helping.

"What are you saying? Why don't you just…_tell me_, Kate?"

"I…I'm saying just _that_. We've had some pretty good times. And I want us to have more of them, to make more memories. But I need you to be open with me. To be _straight_ with me like you were just now."

"S—_straight_ with you?" he splutters, bouncing to the edge of the sofa. "I don't want to point fingers here, Kate. But _you_ are the one who lied. You said it yourself – you kept secrets. How am I supposed to 'look into your heart' if you won't let me see?"

"I know. I know," she says, holding her hands up in front of her to calm him. "But I just figured it out. Cut me some slack, Castle. I'm still learning how to do this."

"Figured _what_ out?"

"Transparency."

"Transparency?"

"Yeah. That's…that's what we need to…to succeed."

He busts out a grin and she's not sure how to take it. He does _look_ kind of crazy and maybe she _sounds_ kind of crazy. They do mirror one another a lot – well, if you listen to the boys they do.

"Transparency," he repeats, like he's testing out the word, scrubbing a hand down over his stubbled jaw, nodding thoughtfully. "And…when you figured this out…"

"Mmm-hmm?" she hums, listening intently for his upcoming question.

"Were you…had you been drinking by any chance because…?"

"Shut up!" she laughs, picking up a throw pillow from a nearby armchair and tossing it at him.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist," he admits, dodging to one side and shielding his head, and he's blushing a little she's pleased to note, since she is too; her cheeks flaming actually – part embarrassment and part pleasure to be here with him, sparring like this when she thought all might be lost.

God she loves him.

"Self help book then?" he teases on, smirking. "Psychic prediction? Oh! I know - _Fortune cookie!_"

She smiles at him - long, slow and indulgent - shaking her head as she would at a child, her hands on her hips.

"If I'm going to stay here a second longer to be taunted by you, you'd better pour me that drink," she tells him, picking the small pillow up off the floor and walking it over to the sofa.

She sinks down in one corner against the deep, leather cushions, hugging the pillow to her chest.

He looks at her side-on, pauses, silent, like he doesn't know what to do next.

"Castle. Kitchen's that way," she says, playfully, kicking off her shoes and then nudging his knee with her bare foot.

"Right. Right," he repeats, standing, turning to give her a thoughtful stare and a quick flash of a smile before he walks away.

* * *

He goes over to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of wine, then lifts two glasses down from the shelf, glancing back across the living room at Kate, his heart easing to see her making herself comfortable in what he hopes will soon be '_their_' home. She grabs a magazine off the coffee table, settles into the corner of the sofa, one knee bent, her other leg tucked under her, and she begins to flip through the pages, blindly. He sees her sneaking little peeks at him when she thinks he isn't watching, but he lets it slide.

She may not have given him the answer he hopes for yet, but the way she keeps checking her pocket tells him she probably has the ring with her, and since she didn't throw it back at him the second she walked through the door, he thinks that's probably a really good sign.

If she wants transparency, he can work on that. It's not like he has anything to hide…

* * *

The corkscrew is in the silverware drawer. As he reaches for it, his eyes alight on the hand-written receipt for Kate's engagement ring, sitting atop a pile of outgoing mail right by the fruit bowl. The ink looks fresh, the paper crisp and smooth, and there's a good reason why it's still sitting out on the counter, as yet unfiled. He has to add the valuable piece of jewelry to his insurance, so his broker asked him to make a copy of the original receipt and then mail it to her. He glances guiltily at the date – _yesterday's_ - written in the sales assistant's spiraling, feminine handwriting.

He looks down at the two wine glasses sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in front of him on the counter; their crystal-clear bowls finely balanced on graceful stems - so delicate, so precarious…so _transparent_.

He swipes the jeweler's receipt off the counter and slides it into the drawer, concealing it beneath a thick pile of take-out menus, before slamming the drawer closed and turning away to open the wine.

* * *

_**Transparent**, adj: Colorless. Capable of transmitting light so that objects or images can be seen as if there was no intervening material. Easy to see through, understand or recognise; obvious. Free from guile; candid or open. Shining through, luminous. Sheer, diaphanous._

* * *

___A/N: Love to hear your thoughts, as always, while we're all still killing time. Hope you're having a great weekend. Liv_


	2. Chapter 2 - Muddying The Waters

_A/N: So, I've broken my own rules with this particular 'Colors' fic and added a second chapter. Seemed a lot of people felt there were unresolved issues in the last one, not least of which was Castle's lie. I hope you enjoy..._

* * *

___"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
so I love you because I know no other way than this:  
where I does not exist, nor you,  
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep." _

_**-Pablo Neruda**, 100 Sonnets: XVII_

* * *

_**Chapter 2: Muddying The Waters**_

"So, if not at the bottom of a glass or inside a fortune cookie, where exactly did you find this new insight of yours?" asks Castle, handing Kate a glass of wine and sitting down on the sofa, one cushion over.

He's trying to maintain the playful, light-hearted atmosphere they seem to have struck on a few minutes ago, while pushing this much-needed discussion forward in the direction it needs to go.

"You want a serious answer to that? Or should I just...make something up? Like I got a visitation in the middle of the night from some little green, Mars-dwellering, men who smelled of cheese?" giggles Kate, raising her glass of wine to toast him.

"Ewww. That sounds…" Castle wrinkles his nose and screws up his face. "No, I think I'd rather hear the cold, hard truth than your fictional version of events. Gremlins who smell like Pepper Jack? No, thank you!"

"Actually, I was thinking more smoked Provolone. But anyway…" she laughs, blushing with pleasure and then looking down at her lap shyly.

He loves that slightly crooked eyetooth she has, the one he only gets to see when she laughs like this; her whole face crinkled up in helpless mirth and her beautiful mouth spread wide. He watches her pick a piece of lint off her jeans and roll it between her thumb and forefinger thoughtfully before she speaks again.

"No, I just…" she shakes her head, getting serious again. "We keep making these negative assumptions about what the other is thinking. Based on what? Based on nothing. On silence. On guesswork. And I know I'm bad at letting you in, at letting you know what's going on with me, Castle. But..."

"Bad?" repeats Castle, grinning at Kate when she whips her head around to look at him.

"Okay, terrible then. That adjective make you happier?" she asks, rolling her eyes at him.

"Sorry. You're right. Shutting up now. Please…you were saying. You're terrible at letting me in…_and_…"

Kate mock-glares at Castle and he smirks back, shaking his head and then taking a sip of his own wine, his look saying he promises to be good from now on.

"_And_…I wished you could see inside my head and I could see inside yours so we knew exactly what was going on. So we wouldn't keep misconstruing things."

"_Whoa!_ Have you _seen_ '_What Women Want'_? Be careful what you wish for, detective. Things got a little tricky for Mel Gibson when he got that power."

"Castle," sighs Kate, shaking her head and smiling tolerantly. "I can't even believe _you've_ seen that movie."

"Alexis," he insists. "She _made_ me watch, okay. But, I'm sorry. I'm making light of this and you were trying to…"

"I'm trying to be honest. Transparency, remember? I'm trying to explain to you what I figured out today. This is going to be a long road, Castle."

"I know. But you know what they say about long journeys," he prompts. "A single step. So, why don't you explain it to me,"he encourages, gently.

* * *

"On the swings you…you sounded so serious and unhappy when you were talking about our relationship that I really thought you were breaking up with me. That's why..."

"Breaking up with you? Are you kidding me? I just _proposed_ to you, Kate."

"I know that _now_. But I didn't then. So, do you see what I mean about transparency? I couldn't have gotten it more wrong. And maybe if I'd know what was on your mind - that you were thinking about us making a future together, that you'd actually been thinking about proposing for a while…maybe..."

Kate shrugs, at a loss to explain herself further, taking another sip of wine to buy some thinking time.

"Did you really think, after everything, that I was just going to let you walk out of my life without a fight? Okay, so maybe the timing wasn't perfect and the tone could have been…I don't know, more…_romantic_ maybe? But just lately, you've made it hard to…"

Castle pauses, dropping his head to look at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort, hating that it probably sounds like he's blaming her for everything.

"To what?" she prompts, softly. "Castle, just say it."

"To talk to you. When I found out you'd been for that interview and deliberately hid it from me, you knocked the wind right out of my sails. You made me question how serious this thing between us really was. And when you insisted that it was _your life_…it was hard not to feel shut out, Kate, sidelined. And okay, I shouldn't have walked out on you that night. But..."

"No. No, I was at fault too. We should have talked about it like adults."

"True. But you don't make it easy sometimes, Kate. I was used to never knowing where things stood between us _before_ we got together. But lately I thought I knew exactly where we were. I thought we were on the same page, that we were building something."

"We are," she protests.

"No. No, we weren't. _You_ were planning, or at least _exploring,_ a future that didn't include me."

"And I said I'm sorry."

"No. You said you were sorry that you kept secrets. That's a whole other thing. The job decision…you were making that without me. As if I was unimportant to you, had no role in your life and no bearing on your decision to leave or stay. That's pretty hard to take."

"So…so tell me how do you go from that - from feeling so hurt and cutout of the picture - to '_I want this woman to be my wife?_' Please explain that to me because I need to understand."

Kate genuinely feels a need to know how he arrived at his decision, and how he was able to forgive her. They think differently: thought processes, temperament, life experiences all informing how they go about reacting to things.

Castle sips his wine and thinks about her question - all the recent upsets and curve balls that have muddied his thinking. Then he makes a quarter turn on the sofa so he can talk to her directly.

* * *

"How did I get there? Slowly, painfully, gradually," Castle admits, "and with a lot of help from my laptop."

"Your laptop? I don't understand," says Kate, frowning.

"When I have a problem to solve I take it out on the keyboard."

"Writing?"

"I don't know if you could call it writing. Since most of what comes out ends up in the trashcan. But…yeah, the act of writing, freethinking, whatever you want to call it, soothes me, helps me think more clearly, work past the noise inside my head to get at what's important."

"So…what did you figure out?"

"That I can do my job anywhere. That D.C., if that's what you decide, might offer new inspiration and opportunities for my work too. But more than anything, I spent my time trying to imagine you being gone from my life for good, and I just couldn't."

There are tears in Kate's eyes when Castle further elucidates this train of thought.

"I tried to imagine not seeing you anymore, not being able to talk to you or bounce ideas around, share a meal and a bottle of wine, laugh at poor Ryan's latest wacky health fad from Jenny, or Espo's attempts with the ladies. I know you so well I feel like I can almost touch you when you're not even here, can feel your skin under my hands, Kate, and…"

Castle closes his eyes, blows out a long breath, and stops talking; worried that he sounds pathetic or desperate.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to be so..."

Then he thinks, to hell with holding back. I did that for far too long and look where that got us – four wasted years spent apart and a sniper's bullet that could have robbed us of everything.

"Kate, I will do almost _anything_ to keep us together. If you haven't figured that out already. If the proposal seemed hasty or…or expedient, it wasn't meant to be."

"I know," she says lightly, reaching out to touch Castle's knee. "The ring," she nods, smiling, "you said."

"I just needed a way to show you that…that I am serious here, and I will literally follow you anywhere."

"You never did stay in the car when I told you to," she laughs, glancing up at him, smiling into his amazing blue eyes.

"Yeah, was never big on listening to your rules, was I?" he grins.

"Used to drive me crazy in the beginning,"she grins back, eyes shining.

"Well, I'm listening to you now, Kate, for what it's worth. If you don't want to get married, I understand. But at least think about it and think about what you'd be giving up if you walk away from this: from us. In my experience, it doesn't get much better than this; than what we have."

* * *

Kate puts her wine glass down and edges along the sofa to move closer to him.

"Castle, I'm not walking away," she tells him, resting her head against his, arms and shoulders bumping.

"You're not?" he asks, leaning back a little to be able to look at her.

"_No._ And even if I decided to take the job, I realize that I need to make my life be about more than my career. The anger than drove me after my mom died is gone, turned into something else, something…_better,_ largely thanks to you. It's time to move onto a new stage in my life. My career will always be important, but I was wrong when I told you that this decision was about all about me. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

"You mean that?"

"Yes. We've been a part of each other's lives for so long now. Even before we were together I counted on you always being there – pulling my pigtails and…and looking out for me. Castle, I love you and I love what we've become together. I was stupid and selfish to think that I shouldn't have talked to you about the job opportunity the second it came up. I just thought you might overreact, but turned out keeping it from you only made things worse."

"If it got us talking, if it got us here in the end, I don't care. I can live with that."

"You're big on forgiveness, aren't you?" she asks, her voice full of admiration.

"Actually, I'm big on doing whatever it takes to make us both happy. Because I believe we can be happy, Kate."

"I do too."

"So…what does that mean for the immediate future? Should I be calling in the movers?"

"No. I turned the job down."

* * *

Castle's heart leaps at this news, but he tamps down his enthusiasm to give Kate credit where it's due.

"For what it's worth, I am so proud of you for getting that offer. The government is missing out on one hell of a talent. And if you change your mind, at anytime…you know we can move in a heartbeat."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"_So_," utters Castle, taking a quick swig of wine while wondering how to broach the subject of what comes next for them if D.C. is off the table.

He clears his throat while Kate watches him work up to saying something. Her expression is one of mild amusement at the normally ebullient writer's sudden bout of shyness and hesitation.

"If we're going for complete transparency, it occurs to me that we still have the unresolved issue of a marriage proposal to talk about."

"We do. That is correct," smiles Kate, nervously.

"Did you give it any thought?" he asks, wincing at his poor choice of words and then giving her a quick sidelong glance.

"Castle, I've barely thought about anything else," she confesses, biting her lip.

"I'm hoping that's a good thing. That the prospect of being married to me is so appealing that…"

* * *

He stops speaking when he sees the look on Kate's face – a mixture of tension and discomfort that tells him he's not about to hear the answer he was hoping for.

"Okay. I'm guessing that's a no then."

"It's not exactly a no."

"But it's not a yes either."

"It's not a yes or a no. And this isn't about me not being ready for marriage, Castle. I simply don't think that _we_ are. But I do have a compromise," she suggests, smoothing her hands down the front of her jeans, her turn to be a little nervous.

"Go on," says Castle, intrigued, if a little uneasy.

"What if…what if I moved in here? Permanently. And feel free to say no if it's too soon. I'll understand. I just thought that way we could work on things with some certainty over the future, and then…one day," she grins.

"One day?" repeats Castle, his voice full of hope.

Kate fishes around in her pocket for the ring.

"Save this for me? Hmm? And then when we're ready. When the time is right. Ask me again," she tells him, pressing the engagement ring into his hand.

"You want me to wait for you?"

"I know I've asked that of you before and you've been so patient. But this time is different, Rick," she assures him, closing his fingers around the ring and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "We'd be living together. So, I'd say it's more like wait _with me _this time, wouldn't you?"

"I think I can live with that. If I get to live with _you_," he smiles, after a momentary hesitation.

"So, do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal, Detective."

"The ring is…_so_ beautiful by the way. And I love the inscription," she tells him, as he opens up his hand again.

"Seemed fitting," says Castle, looking down at the shiny diamond and platinum band nestled in his palm.

"It was really thoughtful," assures Kate, gently touching his wrist.

"Well, it's yours and it's right here anytime you want it," he tells her, enclosing it in his hand again and holding up his fist for her to see.

"Ask me. Ask me when you know it's time," she nods.

"Is that…is that some kind of a promise?" teases Castle, needing just a little bit more from her.

"You know what it is. Stop fishing," she smiles, bumping his shoulder with her own. "Are you hungry? All this talking is making me hungry."

"How about we order in and then we can plan how we're going to break the news to Gates that we're living together?"

"Don't, you'll ruin my appetite," laughs Kate, suddenly remembering her boss and how disappointed she'll be to find out that she turned down the job.

* * *

Castle stands, sets his wine glass on the table and leans down to give Kate a kiss. It's soft and brief, his lips latching onto hers, finding her so pliant and willing. Kate chases his mouth when he pulls away, needing more of him. But he stands fully upright, smoothing his hand down the back of her head, fingers combing through her curls as he would for a child, so tenderly.

"I'm going to go take a shower," he says quietly. "Can you order the food? Just get whatever you feel like. My wallet is on the counter," he tells her, squeezing her shoulder and then heading off to the bedroom.

Kate watches him leave, happy to give him a little space after everything, and then she gets up to float across the living room on a cloud of optimism. They're planning a future, a happy one. She's made the right decision about the job and living together is the next logical step.

She thinks about calling her dad immediately to tell him, but decides to order their food first. So she opens the silverware drawer in search of the menu from their favorite Thai place. She lifts out the stack of takeout fliers the family has accumulated over time and begins to shuffle them, smiling to herself when she hears Castle singing in the shower.

She gets part way through rifling the pile of tri-fold leaflets when a single cream sheet that doesn't belong in there – its stock thicker, plainer and more matt than the others – catches her attention. It's the jeweler's receipt for her engagement ring, she realizes with a guilty jolt when she looks at it more little closely.

Her eyes widen in surprise when she spots the hand-written total after sales tax etched into the small box on the bottom right hand corner of the invoice, the number of zeros bewildering. But her eyes widen even further when they alight on the date of purchase.

And then her heart sinks like a stone in a muddy pond.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to fbobs for inspiring the chapter title and the smell of Beckett's little green men. Not that he smells of cheese...just...well, I guess you had to be there! :) One more chapter to come. Love to hear your thoughts. Liv_


	3. Chapter 3 - Finding Clarity

_A/N: Thanks to fbobs for helping to unscramble some of my thoughts on this one. Enjoy!_

* * *

_"Everyone loves the lovers_  
_Walkin' hand in hand _  
_Blue eyed boy, brown eyed girlfriend _  
_See the woman with the man _

_Once they were strangers_  
_Now they're going home _  
_Everyone, everyone loves lovers_  
_Except when you're alone" _

_"The world's in love with lovers_  
_Throws open every door_  
_A diamond ring around her finger _  
_They ain't looking anymore"_

_**- Curtis Stigers**, 'Everyone Loves Lovers'_

* * *

**_Chapter 3: Finding Clarity_**

Kate stares at the receipt until her eyes begin to sting and tears cloud her vision, the looping cursive that signals the evaporation of her happiness distorting right in front of her. It's like taking in a view through a fisheye lens or looking at a bug trapped inside a water droplet; it swells, losing definition, losing clarity, growing enormous and out of all proportion – _monstrous_ - like the loud clamor of dark thoughts inside her head.

Off in the bathroom, Castle's singing changes tempo, seguing into some upbeat kids' song she thinks she caught him whistling along to on Sesame Street one Saturday morning a few weeks ago. He was sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, she remembers, wearing just his boxer shorts and an '_Elmo Loves You_' tee-shirt, eating a bowl of Cheerios even the Cookie Monster would have found hard to digest. He looked so dopey, still half asleep, young, innocent and sexy in a domestic, rumpled kind of way. So much so that she had stripped that tee-shirt off his body, before relieving him of his shorts, and then had straddled him right there on the leather sofa cushions, his face a picture of shocked delight she can still conjure up in a second.

The flashback is so vivid that it has her blushing even today. The intimate memory makes her chest ache.

It's just a piece of paper she tries to tell herself. Yeah, like the boarding pass Castle found in your apartment was just a piece of paper, a little voice inside her head taunts back.

So, this is how it feels to be betrayed by someone you love. And maybe he is right about the transcendent side of life and this is karma, following as effect from cause – one of those inexplicable, mystical forces out to bite her on the ass; pay her back for her own lies and selfish deceit by giving her a little taste of what her partner went through.

She stares harder, the fresh sheet of paper getting warped by the firmness of her grip, the surface wrinkling. The lie sits there, unchanged, continuing to muddy up her thoughts.

* * *

She doesn't know how long she stands at the counter clutching the receipt, but suddenly Castle reappears, rubbing his shower-wet hair with a towel, dressed in grey sweats and a black v-neck tee-shirt that he seems to have put on inside-out, the white care label flapping from the left-hand seam like a flag of surrender. His feet are bare and his eyes are screwed shut.

"Kate, I got soap in my eye. Can you do the drops again?" he asks, bumping his toe off the doorframe as he stumbles blindly towards her, cursing under his breath.

Kate freezes for just a second, and then she takes the reprieve his lack of care with the shampoo offers, slipping the receipt back into the drawer along with most of the take-out menus, inadvertently leaving herself with a choice of pizza or the local Brazilian place that got awarded a C Grade from the Health Department for having a constant pile of stinking, ripped garbage bags out by the curb.

"Kate, are you there?" he asks, pressing the damp towel to his face and then prizing one bloodshot eye open with his fingers to look for her.

"I'm here. I'm here. Come on. Let's flush that eye out," she says, striding over to him and then steering him gently back towards the bathroom by his shoulders.

Her heart is pounding and she feels nauseous. The immediate element of surprise is lost now that she's chosen to re-hide the receipt on a momentary whim. She can't hold it up, confront him and say: "What the hell is _this_?" Now she'll have to bring it up deliberately, make a big deal of it and look like she's been snooping when she wasn't. But then it _is_ a big deal. He lied to her and about _that_ of all things.

However she does need some time to think things through. So she keeps her mouth shut for now, biding her time.

She spots a black velvet ring box sitting on his nightstand as they pass through the bedroom. He's obviously done as she asked and put the engagement ring away for safekeeping. Though maybe not far enough away, if today's revelation is anything to go by.

* * *

"Which eye?" she asks, when they get in front of the vanity.

"Both," he winces, screwing them up even tighter, while Kate opens the medicine cabinet looking for the little bottle of natural tears.

"Don't rub them," she chastises, swatting one of his balled up fists away from his eye socket.

"Stings," he grumbles, mashing his knuckles into the weeping lid.

"Don't be a baby," she retorts, grasping his wrist and moving his hand down by his side. "Now, I'm going to open your eye up," she warns him, unscrewing the cap on the little bottle of drops.

"Which one?" he asks, his nose running like a two year old's.

"Here. Blow your nose," she instructs, placing a Kleenex in his hand.

"It's the shampoo," he complains, blowing his nose and then handing her back the used tissue.

"Eww, Castle!" she squeaks, tossing the soggy, balled up paper towards the trash can.

"_What_?" he asks, all innocence. "I can't _see_."

"God, you're like a little kid sometimes," she mutters, backing him up a little so the light is better for her to apply the drops.

"But you like looking after me," he wheedles, playing up to this nurturing side of her he discovered after he damaged his knee skiing.

"Lucky for you. But your used Kleenex, not so much," she sighs, tipping his head back. "Okay, I'm opening your eye now. But you can close your mouth. You look like you're about to swallow me whole."

He laughs at that, a big old guffaw, and she has to abort her mission to insert the drops since he's shaking so much.

"Okay. Get it all out," she tells him, stepping back and crossing her arms to wait until he's quite finished laughing.

"I'm sorry," he chuckles, finally calming down. "But trying to swallow you _whole_? No, that part comes later," he leers, somehow able to grab her ass even with his eyes shut. "_After_ dinner."

"Right, Mr. Handsy. You want the drops or should I leave you to deal with this yourself?"

"No! No, you have to do it. You know I always miss," he reminds her, grasping her wrist.

And yes, he does always miss. Hence the reason he should know better than to open his mouth along with his eye by now.

* * *

She's almost forgotten about the receipt. _Almost!_ His antics are childish and adorable and the private, at home version of Castle she now knows so intimately and, yes, loves deeply too.

"Tip it back," she instructs, barely keeping the amusement out of her voice. "Right one first," she warns, opening his upper lid gently by the lashes. "Okay, now stare at the ceiling and do _not_ close it until a couple of seconds after the drops are in there."

"Castle, are you even listening to me?" she asks, when she feels his fingers slipping into the back pocket of her jeans and his nails begin to stroke her butt cheek through the fabric.

He knows she likes this and now he's using it against her.

"Stop groping me for a second. I can't concentrate when you do that," she reminds him, reaching behind her to swat his hand away.

"Then play fair, Detective. You left boob is brushing up against my arm. What do you expect?" he asks, squinting at her out of his less-affected eye.

"Did you order dinner?" he asks, when Kate's stomach rumbles.

"Eh…didn't get a chance," she hedges, a sharp image of the receipt coming to mind with far more clarity than she can deal with right now.

"What were you doing out there? I was in the shower for ages."

"I…I called my dad," she lies, on the spur of the moment.

And dear god, what is with the lies these days, she thinks. Since when did she get so good at this, since when did they trip so easily off her tongue, not an hour after asking Castle for transparency?

* * *

"Look, this isn't working," she says suddenly, biting her lip and taking a step back.

"What isn't working?" he asks, peering at her suspiciously, as a saline droplet tracks down his right cheek.

"I need you to sit on the toilet seat so I can be above you."

"Height difference has never been a problem before," he teases, peering down at her bare feet through tear-matted lashes.

"Yeah, well, you try squirting drops uphill. Gravity tends to have a thing or two to say about that."

"Oooo! Speaking of height differences. Remember that time I lifted you onto the break room table and we forgot to shut the blinds?" he sniggers, sitting down heavily on the closed toilet seat and then tugging her between the open vee of his legs by her hips, before cupping the cheeks of her ass with his large hands and squeezing for emphasis.

Kate laughs in spite of everything, remembering exactly the night he's talking about, three or so weeks after they started sleeping together: too worked up to wait until they got home and too far gone by the time her thighs hit the back of the break room table to remember the open blinds. She's pretty sure a passing uniform got a glimpse of Castle's bare ass that night on his way to holding with one wide-eyed, slack-jawed suspect.

* * *

Castle's mouth is on the bare triangle of skin exposed by her shirt, his hands still kneading her rear. He's licking his way down into the soft valley of her cleavage, pushing his tongue in between her breasts where they rise out of her bra, his cheeks buried in the soft cotton of her low-cut Henley. She can barely stand - let alone think - and she finds herself holding onto his shoulders for balance.

"How can you even see your way down there?" she mumbles, cupping the back of his neck with one hand, her fingers splaying wide to slip through the neatly cropped hair at the back of his head, eyes dropping closed when he slides the fingers of one hand right down between her buttocks, blowing her mind.

"Beckett, what did I tell you about how well I know your body? If I was blind, I could still recite every inch of you."

This chokes her up: his adoration, his tenderness, his care and love for her – everything about her - scars, faults, weakness, lies, the whole messy package.

She squeezes his shoulders to bring him back to the matter in hand and to get herself under control.

"Yeah, well, I still think we should make sure you don't go blind," she tells him, clearing her emotion-constricted throat. "Let me just finish these drops."

* * *

"So, I was thinking we could turn the guestroom upstairs into an office for you, if you like," he suggests apropos nothing, a few quiet seconds later.

"You don't want me sharing your office, Castle? Is that it?" smiles Kate, trying to hide her pleasure at his thoughtful suggestion, reminding her yet again of all the ways this man is willing to change, adapt and sacrifice to accommodate her in his life.

"No. I want you sharing my everything, Kate," he tells her, spiking her heart rate with his openness and boundless generosity, as he runs his thumbs up and down her sides. "I just figured if we each have our own office space I could come visit you from time-to-time and do naughty things as I splay you out over the desk," he whispers, pressing his face into her shirt, before blowing a raspberry against her stomach.

Kate laughs at the ticklish sensation, cupping the back of his head while he nuzzles her, and then she prizes him off by one ear.

"Ah! Ah! Okay, we can share an office," he squeaks, rubbing his ear.

"We'll see," Kate tells him, noncommittally, returning to the matter of his bloodshot eyes.

* * *

He jabbers on about Alexis and this boy she's been dating while she tips his head back, still suspicious of everyone in his daughter's life, from tutors to the college nurse, since the terrifying events that let to Paris.

Kate told him no when he asked her to run a new boy she'd met in an Art History class through the system, and then she caught him, not an hour later, trying to bribe Ryan to do the exact same thing. She confiscated the keys to his Ferrari for a week after that.

He's such a good father. It's one of the things she loved about him from the start. Even when she thought he was a self-centered jackass, his devotion to Alexis always got her attention and made her question her perception of him as one of New York's foremost playboys. She thinks it's the purest part of who he is – the fountain of his optimism, playfulness, generosity, his ability to love and forgive, the source of his openness. Being a father has made him an amazing man.

"He just had this look about him when he walked her to the door," she hears him grumble.

"What look? Castle, I was there. He's besotted with Alexis."

"_Exactly!_" declares Castle, the 'ah-ha' moment clear in his voice. "And you know what besotted young men want from besotted young women."

"My parents would have been delighted if I'd brought Grant home."

"Yeah, well, you're different," Castle mutters, his filter obviously water-damaged by the shower or the shampoo.

"I'm—Exactly _how_ am I different?" challenges Kate, stepping out from between his legs with her hands on her hips to get a better look at him.

He reaches out and hooks his fingers into her right jeans pocket, tugging her back towards him, knocking her hands off her hips and replacing them with his own.

"I think those drops might be medicated," he tells her, glancing at the tiny bottle on the counter. "Forget I said anything."

"Oh, no. _This_ I wanna hear," demands Kate, standing her ground.

"Okay, well, you're _smart_ and _streetwise,_" he says, as if this explains everything.

"Alexis is smart and I haven't always been a cop, Castle. I was—"

"A _wild child_, I know," grins Castle, gleefully. "With a Harley."

"Doesn't mean I didn't have to use common sense when it came to men. Still do," she mutters, under her breath, as she turns away to wash her hands in the sink.

"I just don't want her to get hurt. Is that so bad?" he implores her.

"No, of course not. But what makes you think Grant is going to hurt her?"

"It's what men do. We don't mean to but…we can be thoughtless, insensitive jerks at times."

"Is this you apologizing in advance for something?" she asks suspiciously, wondering if he can in fact read her mind.

"What? No. No, I'm just pointing out that the course of young love never does run smoothly and…look I don't want her to find out the hard way that real life isn't like a perfect romance novel."

"Castle, she's been living with _you_ her whole life. I think she's probably figured that out by now. Just look at you and me," she points out.

"Yeah, but look at us now – we're _amazing_," he grins, dragging her back between his legs and rubbing his cheek on her shirt again. "You're moving in and there's a little box out on my nightstand with your name on it," he winks, or maybe it's the drops making his eye twitch, she's not sure which.

"One thing at a time," corrects Kate, uneasily, reaching across him to dry her hands on a towel, preparing to leave the bathroom.

"Hey," calls Castle softly, when she reaches to door to the bedroom.

"Mmm?" asks Kate, pausing, the ache of hurt and indecision in her chest returning now that the momentary distraction of a minor medical emergency is over.

"I _will_ wear you down, Katherine Beckett," Castle promises, his blue eyes softened and watery, leaking kindness and love, his voice an emotion-filled rasp.

Kate nods once, thoughtfully, but without responding to his statement.

"Your shirt's on inside out," she points out casually, before disappearing into the darkness of the bedroom.

* * *

Castle comes through into the living room a couple of minutes later to find Kate sitting on a stool in the kitchen flicking through messages on her cell.

"That was Espo on the phone. Tox screen came back on McMurtry. Guy had toxic levels of Scopolamine in his system."

"Sco—where have I heard that before?"

"It's used to combat motion sickness, according to Lanie. But absolutely lethal at higher concentrations. Someone must have given Garry McMurtry an amount well in excess of the normal dose. Probably caused the hallucinations and paranoid delusions that drove him off that rooftop."

"The wife?"

"Or the wife's boyfriend. Ryan and Espo are on their way to pick them up right now."

"Cases like these make me glad my life is simple," declares Castle, coming into the kitchen and straight over to the stool Kate is perched on to give her a kiss on the cheek and then massage her shoulders.

"Hey, you're tense," he observes, when his fingers find the steel bands that run from her neck down to her shoulders. "What say I give you a massage later, work out these knots?" he suggests, continuing to knead her tense shoulders.

"Great," says Kate, giving him a weak smile.

"But first, let's get you some food," says Castle, pressing another kiss to the back of her head and then rummaging in his pants pocket for his cell phone.

He sees the two takeout menus she left out on the counter earlier and picks them up.

"I thought you hated both these places," he says, wrapping his arms around her from behind while he flips through the pages of the basic pizza joint on Canal and the Brazilian place with the hygiene issues, resting his chin on her shoulder right next to her ear.

"I…eh…I got distracted," says Kate, which is the truth, though not for the reason he thinks.

"Right. But is this your choice? Pizza or Brazilian?"

"Actually, I was thinking more Thai," she tells him honestly, without thinking it through.

"Then Thai it is," agrees Castle, opening the drawer to look for the correct menu. "I could inhale a mountain of those little steamed pork dumplings. You want the crispy duck salad again?" he asks, lifting out the pile of slippery takeout leaflets. "Or the eggplant Gra Prow?"

He shuffles the menus like a Las Vegas croupier, fingers moving fast, deft and sure over the high-gloss paper until he finds the right one.

Kate sits on the stool with her breath held, watching him, waiting for nature to take its course. Eventually the sales receipt from the jewelry store floats to the surface like a bloated body from the silt of a muddy marsh – reeking of guilt – a secret revealed; one in which they are now both complicit.

* * *

The room goes very still when Castle is finally confronted by the receipt, or at least Kate imagines that it does; the crisp page now a little rumpled from her tight grip on it earlier.

She clears her throat and braces herself for whatever's coming, for whatever her partner is about to say, determined not to lose her temper.

He steps back away from her a little, attempting to just slip the single sheet back into the pile no doubt. But then he glances up at her, spotting immediately that the game is up from the look on her face.

"Did…did you see this already?" he asks, flashing the creamy sheet of paper at her just once.

Kate nods slowly.

"I…I'm sorry, you weren't supposed to see that," he tells her, rubbing the side of his head with the heel of his hand.

"I'll bet," says Kate, dryly, dropping her gaze down to look at her lap.

"Don't be mad. Look they say you should spend a month's salary on an engagement ring and… Well, let's just say I had a really good month," he tells her, pausing to see what she's going to say next.

Kate says nothing, just waits for more from him. Interrogation 101: give the guilty enough silence to hang themselves.

"My broker wanted a copy so she can add your ring to the insurance policy and I just hadn't got around to it yet," he rambles, unknowingly digging a bigger hole for himself. "Otherwise I would have filed it away."

"Castle, I don't want to hear it," Kate tells him, which is actually another lie, since she will listen to him talk all day if there's any way he can make this better for both of them.

"I knew you'd be mad if you knew how much the ring cost. But, Kate, if I can't spend money on you when we get engaged, money _you_ helped me earn, I might add, then…"

"Castle, it's not about the money!" says Kate, sharply, shocking him into silence.

"Then…then what is it about? Do you not like the ring? I thought you liked the ring? Look, if you don't like it I'm sure we can exchange it, let you pick out something…"

"I _love_ the ring," Kate interjects, halting him again, want and regret coming across in her voice.

"Then what's the problem?" he asks, gripping the edge of the counter, the fact that this is something more serious dawning on him slowly from the heartbroken look on Kate's face and the tone she just used.

"The problem is you lied to me."

"Lied?"

"And I know that's rich coming from me, and maybe this is you or the cosmos or whatever paying me back for lying to _you_ about my flight to D.C. and that interview. I don't know. But I thought we agreed on transparency from now on?"

"We did. I…I don't understand. What do you think I lied to you about?"

"Come on, Castle. Stop playing games. What was it you called me just a few minutes ago? Smart and streetwise, wasn't it? Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Notice? Notice _what_?" he asks, getting desperate.

"The _date!_" she yells, finally losing her composure.

"The date?" he frowns, confused. "I don't..."

"On the sales receipt. You didn't buy that ring two months ago. You bought it _yesterday_ in a desperate attempt to stop me leaving town without you. You haven't been thinking about proposing for months. Castle, you lied."

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I _know_. Look at it," says Kate, picking up the piece of vellum and thrusting it towards him. "Did you think lying about it was going to help us? Hmm? Begin our life together based on a falsehood?"

"Kate, you have this all wrong. And we're not setting out based on a lie. Our life together began a long time ago, before D.C. and that job ever came up and everything else that seems to be getting in the way lately."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means…it means… Okay, so, yes, I only picked the ring up yesterday. But—"

"_Picked up_? Is that the best you can do? You're a writer so…so you're going to play with language to get you out of this, is that it? _That's_ the big plan? Castle, you forget I've listened to hundreds of liars far better than you try to talk their way out of murder raps using clever words alone."

"Is that how you think of me? How you see me? No better than one of the scum who float through interrogation, lying through their teeth to save their own skin?"

"Well, isn't that what you're doing right now? Saving your own skin?"

"No. No, I actually thought I was saving _ours_!" he barks, finally at the end of his tether.

* * *

Castle walks away, over to the window on the far side of the living room in attempt to cool down. His neck is killing him now and he tips his head from side-to-side and then all the way back trying to relieve the tension in his muscles. His head crunches when he lets it fall backwards and he winces at the sound.

"Saving us from what?" asks Kate, suddenly materializing by his side.

"Sorry?" he asks, looking down at her listlessly.

"What are you saving us from?" she asks, all aggression gone from her voice; like a wave crashing ashore, all energy spent, just a desperate need to understand left behind.

"From making a mistake we'll both regret for the rest of our lives."

"What mistake?"

"You, taking that job in D.C. and leaving me behind."

"I told you I turned it down."

"Kate, save it. I spoke to your dad today. He already told me what you decided."

"_You—?_ Why were you speaking to my dad?" she asks, and the anger and hurt is back, tipped with an embarrassed hue at being caught in yet another lie.

"Why do you think? I was going to propose to you. It's kind of a tradition for the guy to ask the girl's father for his permission. I know it's maybe old fashioned nowadays and we're not exactly…" he shrugs, tiredly, and runs a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I went to see him and that's when he told me."

"How could you—?"

"What? _Lie_ to you?" he challenges.

"No! Sit there while I asked you for transparency knowing what you knew?"

"You're still not getting this, are you? I fell in love with you years ago, Kate. You got under my skin from the moment we met, and okay, you were a challenge to begin with, I'll admit. But not for long. Soon you became a fascination, then an…an obsession, and pretty quickly I was smitten and you were all I could think about. I waited and I tried to make myself better for you and I hoped that one day you'd notice that I was more than the guy with cup of coffee and the crazy theories who got on your nerves but still made you laugh."

"You know that's not the case anymore. Castle, you know what you mean to me."

"_Do I?_ Because after I talked to your dad today I wasn't so sure."

"He had no right telling you any of that. That conversation was private."

"Actually, he told me very little. But it didn't take much to fill in the blanks once I mentioned the job."

"I don't know how you do it," says Kate, and not for the first time that day.

"Do what?"

"Keep coming back for more. Keep forgiving."

"It's simple. I want you any way I can have you, and if that makes me pathetic…" he shrugs in defeat.

"If anyone is less than perfect around here, believe me, I know it's me. But why lie about the ring?"

"Can we please sit down and talk this through like we should have done last time?" Castle asks, looking exhausted by it all.

"Sure," Kate nods.

* * *

They settle over on the sofa, a small amount of space between them, and Kate remains silent waiting for Castle to explain.

"I didn't lie to you about the ring. I picked it out two months ago, paid a deposit to hold it, but then life got in the way."

"What does that mean? Life got in the way?"

"Full disclosure?" he asks, looking her right in the eye.

"Might as well. Lying doesn't seem to be doing us any good."

"When you were asked to be Eric Vaughn's protective detail, I was…_uncomfortable_ with the whole arrangement, as you know. My mother rather helpfully pointed out that you weren't _committed_ to this relationship without a ring on your finger. In fact, I think she said 'not committed at all'. But this is Martha we're talking about, so I ignored that part. Anyway, she made me think about how well things had been going between us and that maybe it _was_ time to take the next step."

"So, you went out and bought a ring because your mother told you to?"

"No…not because of that. Because it was time and I thought we were ready and yeah, okay, maybe she did get inside my head a little and exploit the seeds of doubt that were sprouting in there at the time. But if you'd seen how that guy was throwing himself at you…"

Castle stops himself, ashamed at this jealous outburst. Kate picks up the story for him, still embarrassed by the memory of her own behavior around Eric Vaughn.

"So, you ordered the ring and then…?"

"Then Eric Vaughn came onto you and the whole kiss thing and… I'm sorry, Kate. It just didn't feel like the right time. But when you asked me where we were going…I did hear you, you know. And it made me realize I wouldn't be taking such a big risk asking you for more. I just thought…a little open water between us and that case wouldn't hurt. But I didn't mean to wait so long."

"And then the job came up?" she prompts.

"Yeah," Castle sighs, "then the job came up and as I said before, I just wanted you to know that I was serious about us, that I wanted us to have a future together and that…if you wanted to go to D.C. then my place was with you, wherever."

He rubs both hands down over his face, his eyes still reddened, and then looks up her again to continue his story.

"So, I called the jeweler, got the ring engraved and arranged to pick it up yesterday. The rest you already know. And please, don't blame your dad. He had no disreputable part to play in any of this."

"What did he tell you?" asks Kate.

"That he'd be honored to have me as a son-in-law, but that you were your own woman. I mentioned that I knew about the job offer and he said that he was so proud of you. I knew then, as soon as he said that…from the look in his face, like he felt sorry for me, pitied me even. Or at least I thought I did."

"I changed my mind after I saw him. My home is here, Castle, my _life_ is here. That job is for the person I used to be. But I'm not that person anymore."

"Are you sure? Because if you have regrets, Kate, it won't work."

"I'm sure," she whispers, brushing away a tear.

* * *

"Kate, I'm so tired of fighting," Castle tells her quietly. "You were right about transparency. But it'll only work if it comes from both of us."

"I know. And I know I'm still jumping to conclusions and I'm sorry for not talking all of this through with you at the time. But I'm not running anymore, Castle. I'm here and I want us to work this out if we can."

"Can we?" she asks, when her partner continues to stare down at the floor in silence.

"I'd like that. I'd really like that," he confirms, looking up to flash her a grateful smile.

"So…no more secrets?"

"No more secrets," Castle repeats, in agreement. "Clarity from now on."

"Good. So, I guess now might be a good time to confess that I hate pork dumplings?" she asks, with a twinkle in her eye.

"_What?_ All this time? You've just been humoring me?" he replies, responding immediately to the playfulness in her voice.

Kate nods, her smile growing wider by the second.

"I'm a shrimp roll girl from way back," she grins, tilting her head to the side to watch him, her eyes drinking in the sight of him as his features soften and his face lights up.

* * *

They stare at one another for a few seconds, both of them smiling, realizing they've just weathered a pretty big storm and they've done it together for once.

"Come here," says Castle, holding out his arms to her.

Kate gets up from her end of the sofa and comes over to sit beside him, resting her head on his chest as they lie down together, arms wrapped around one another.

"So, whatever comes at us from now on, be it jobs or kids or mutant Mu Shu pork, we face it together, okay?" whispers Castle, stroking his fingers up and down her spine.

"Mu Shu pork?" laughs Kate, shaking against him.

"_Together_, Beckett. Let me hear you?" he insists.

"Together. Agreed," she tells him, settling into his arms and letting out a long, shaky sigh of relief.

This feels right, being here with him, talking about the future, everything out in the open, their lies revealed and yet somehow minimized by being exposed to the light.

* * *

"Did you really call your dad while I was in the shower?" he asks after a minute or so, kissing the top of her head and smoothing his fingers through her hair.

"No," she admits in a small voice, wincing.

"Want me to do it?" he asks, completely stepping over the fib.

"What will you tell him?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"Whatever you tell me to tell him," he teases, strumming her ribcage with his thumb.

"_Castle_," she grins, pressing her cheek to his sternum.

"_What_?" he laughs. "It's the truth."

And just what is the truth, she wonders. Does she deserve him as much as he wants this life, this future with her? He certainly seems to think so. He undoubtedly deserves more than she's given him to date, she knows that much.

"Okay…so, how about you tell him this…" she pauses, burying her face in his shirt for a second, breathing in the smell of him, her heart thudding against his. She takes a deep breath, her chest swelling with it, feeling like she's about to take flight, and then she finds her voice again. "Tell him we decided on a long engagement. But that I'm moving in immediately."

There's silence for several seconds and Kate wonders if he heard her properly or maybe he's stopped breathing all together, so she sits up to look at his face.

"Castle?"

"Do…did you just accept my proposal or…or am I…?" he stammers, his expression deadly serious, leaning the terrified side of excited.

"For clarity, transparency and the avoidance of doubt," says Kate, leaning down to kiss him on each cheek and then finally on the lips. "I said yes," she whispers in his ear, laughing hard when he hugs her so tightly that she falls on top of him and can't get up.

"So, we're engaged?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nods, smiling, when he finally helps her up a little.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" he asks, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Never hurts to hear it again," she whispers back, tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

"Kate, I am going to make you so happy," he promises, gently stroking her cheekbone with is thumb.

"You don't have to, Castle. You already did," she assures him, finally meeting his mouth in a passionate, bruising kiss.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, and we're done. I hope you approve. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Hope everyone is having a great weekend. Liv_


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